A Different Kind of Family
by EmPoweredBeing
Summary: Minerva and Hermione's friendship is tested as historical truths come to light. Will their friendship break? Or will it blossom into something beautiful? Rated T for historical references to WWII.
1. Chapter 1

Notes for reading: I have it on good authority that Minerva's birthday is actually in October, 1935. This would make her less than 10 years old when my story is set, so we're going to pretend she was born in about 1925 okay? Okay.

Also. I don't condone the use of Johnny Depp for imagining Grindelwald. Anybody but Johnny. Especially as he looks now... that's just not right. Anyone else is yours to have. [Beta agrees - stupid Johnny Depp can't even say his line right at the end of Fantastic Beasts! Grrr!]

I don't know when this is set. I imagine Hugo and Rose are definitely Hogwarts age - Minerva's retired, so Hugo would at least have to be in 1st year meaning that it would be... 20 years after Hermione and the boys left school. I don't know how old that would make everybody, but if you work it out, that's great too. You don't need to, just know it's a long time after the Golden Trio leaves school and three, four or more years after Minerva retires.

Also, I've taken liberties with the weekend policy at Hogwarts. Imagine a boarding school where you can also opt to go home on the weekends if you need to. Not every weekend, but some. Make up some sort of system that might allow that. Cos it's not essential for the story, but I know some of you will want to know why sometimes the kids are home and why sometimes they're not.

The dynamic duo is back - thanks be to Spin84 for doing such an amazingly diligent job on this! She worked tirelessly to make sure you all could read it!  
Also, huge love to my darling wife illestviking who pushes me to write every day and who believes in me so completely that it is humbling every day. It's down to her that I'm back. I love you sweetheart x

Also: This story has references to WWII, please be aware that while I'm not explicitly recreating some parts of this, there are complete references to torture etc.  
And I refuse to say that it's rated T because of some same love between women. Love is love honestly, and it's okay if you don't like it, but be cool about it.

-0-

"Minerva?"

"Living room," came the grumbled reply.

Hermione frowned and noticed a torn piece of paper as she hung up her cloak on the hat stand. Turning one-half over, her frown deepened as she saw the logo on the letterhead.

"Bring the tea will you? My blasted wand is on the dining table."

"No problem," Hermione called, reading the letter as best she could.

She waved her own wand and a tea tray appeared, sliding through the air from the small kitchen. Holding the spell for a moment, she ducked into the dining room and picked up Minerva's wand, ignoring the funny pull in her arm as she did so.

"Ooh, thank you, dear," Minerva said with a smile, accepting Hermione's kiss on her cheek as she sat down.

"One wand," Hermione smiled. "And tea."

"I take it you saw the letter?" Minerva muttered as she poured a cup for them both.

Minerva rarely beat around the bush with Hermione. They knew each other well enough that it was not necessary to keep up appearances in front of each other.

Hermione had been by Minerva's side when Poppy Pomfrey had recently died as Minerva had been by Hermione's when her marriage had fallen apart.

Now, they took tea together every Wednesday and had dinner most Sundays. Especially when Hermione's children were home. The children loved Minerva and she loved them. Hermione was sure that it was their visits that often kept Minerva going.

"I did," she finally answered after receiving her cup of tea. "Can they do that?"

"No." Minerva frowned. "They cannot force me to go to this Phoenix Fields. Really, how stupid to call it that." She sighed and sat back, her shoulder comfortably leaning against Hermione's. "But they may be right."

"Rubbish," Hermione said gently. "You don't need to go into a home. You're fine." She looked sideways at Minerva who went very still. "You are fine, aren't you?"

"We'll, I'm old, I know that much," she chuckled. "I had an unfortunate incident with the stove the other day," Minerva admitted. "That is why they sent me that," she turned up her nose, "letter. They detected my trouble. Really, I know how hard you worked on the House Elf Cruelty Act but these-" she sniffed in disgust. "Old Wizard's homes are cashing in on the fact that many people do not have House Elves anymore. They detect trouble and suddenly, your name is on the list. It is preposterous."

"What happened with the stove?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I may have turned it on, put sausages in and forgot about it. Luckily the fire charm sounded and I was able to rectify the situation post haste but," she shook her head. "It was terrible. A grown woman like me."

"You forget things, we all do," Hermione said. "It doesn't mean you're going senile."

"But what if I am?"

Hermione had never heard Minerva's voice so small. Hermione sipped her tea and thought about her options.

"Then, we'll cross that bridge when we need to. For now? I think you're fine but if you want I can get you a muggle telephone so you can reach me immediately?"

"Gracious," Minerva said, looking uncomfortable.

Hermione thought then that Minerva did actually seem older than Hermione knew her to be. Poppy had died suddenly and very early in Hermione's opinion, though she was not a healer. Minerva had taken it hard enough that she had viewed her own life as on the wane. She had moved into a smaller cottage and shut herself off from people, as far as Hermione knew, nearly everyone except Hugo and Rose and herself.

"Just think about it. You might like learning something new." She said it gently, but Minerva could tell she was pushing. "Rose got one for Christmas," Hermione mentioned lightly. "She could teach you. She knows more about it than I."

She let the subject drop and sat quietly nursing her tea. There was something going on inside Minerva, some change that she couldn't understand, or even reach. This new Minerva scared her somewhat; she seemed to have lost hope.

Hermione really didn't want to leave that afternoon. There had been a shift that she didn't like and the thought of leaving Minerva alone worried her. She bit her lip in the hope that she wouldn't blurt that out, hurting Minerva's feelings even more. If she hadn't have been meeting the Potters for Albus' birthday party, she would have stayed longer.

"Why don't you come with me?" Hermione said suddenly.

"Nonsense. I'm not dead yet Miss Granger," she growled.

"I know that," Hermione said, feigning hurt. "But you seem out of sorts and I thought maybe a trip to my place, new scenery," she smiled hopefully. "We could go for a meal at the pub?"

Minerva sighed and moved way, struggling to get up with the cane that she now had to use for her hip. Hermione stood and reached out her hand.

"I don't need your help."

The tone was what hurt the most, and Hermione could see the embarrassment in Minerva's face when she realised.

"I apologise."

"It's okay," Hermione said honestly. "Life has changed and Minerva McGonagall doesn't do change very well if she's honest with herself."

"Balder-bloody-dash," the older witch growled, throwing the cane on the floor. "I hate that thing, I hate feeling like this. It's overwhelming." Hermione sat back down and helped Minerva return to her position on the sofa. "I have been alive for so long and yet this is how my remaining years will play out. Plagued by pain and by sorrow and by depression. Maybe Albus was right. Death really is the next great adventure."

"Oh shut up," Hermione said sharply. "You can't be serious. The great Minerva McGonagall giving up, that's preposterous alright. What is going on with you? Why are you being like this? Poppy died, but that was three years ago and about forty years before her time. She was ill Minerva, you are not."

"I am," Minerva sniffed. "I have a diseased soul."

"Bullshit."

"Hermione, the things I have done would make you hate me. Would disgust you. You have no idea what my life was like."

"Minerva -"

"NO!" the witch screamed. "You don't know. You weren't there. Where the children were lying in the streets and the darkness was everywhere, muggle and wizard. The bombs and the terrible spells and the smell," Minerva stood, her cane forgotten which surprised Hermione so much she could do nothing but stare. "The stench of burning bodies is something you cannot ever get out of your hair and your nose and your skin. It follows you, clings to you like you will never escape it. And the retribution that I took, that we all took, was not swift and was not merciful."

Minerva's hands were shaking and she had gone a funny grey colour that Hermione could not name. She was staring at Minerva anew. It dawned on her as Minerva stood leaning on the bookshelf that she wasn't talking about the war they had fought together, rather she was talking about the war that had occurred before Hermione was born. The war that Minerva had fought when she was young, straight out of school. The war between good and evil that had shaped the whole world. The war that had paired with the muggle Second World War. The war with Gellert Grindelwald.

"Do you want to tell me?" Hermione asked carefully.

"I would not wish it upon my worst enemy," Minerva whispered, her hands still shaking. "Let alone someone I love."

"Minerva," Hermione said, getting up finally and moving to her side. "There is nothing you could tell me that would cause me to hate you, or dislike you. What happens in war is a thing that cannot be judged by normal standards. You did what you had to, and you did it for a reason, just as we did the things we had to do."

"You do not understand child," Minerva whispered, her voice now trembling as well. "You could never understand."

"I put a memory charm on my parents," Hermione said suddenly. She had not even told the boys that she had done it, at least not _when_ she had done it. She had broken the law, and her own heart, by doing so but it was the right thing to do at the time.

"You did what?"

"Put a memory charm on my parents, over the summer holidays before Fifth Year. They're in Australia living as Wendell and Monica Wilkins." Her voice cracked as she tried to tell Minerva the next part. "They have a son and a daughter."

"Hermione!" To say Minerva was surprised was an understatement. The morose look had disappeared from her face and had been replaced with pure shock. "Fourth Year? After Voldemort." It wasn't a question and Hermione didn't answer it. "All that time, and you didn't say anything."

"To be fair, there was a lot more going on than what was happening in my home," Hermione said quietly.

"That's why they weren't there at your wedding," Minerva whispered, almost to herself. "That's why it was small and quick."

"I didn't tell Ronald, and he didn't ask. I should have known then really. It was all about him and his family, so we just had it at The Burrow and I said that because of the advancing timeline they couldn't return from wherever I told the Weasleys they were travelling."

"Oh Hermione."

"No, it's okay. I had enough money. I had them set up a savings account before they left. And they signed over the house to me before they went anywhere. I tricked them and modified their brains and did so against the law."

"It hardly compares," Minerva waved her hand like she was wafting away smoke. "Not even close, but Hermione, this is important. Your parents are well though?"

"Absolutely. They don't remember a thing and are completely loving life there. They're happy and safe and I am glad that I did it. I think had my parents been accessible, they'd have been forgotten in the maelstrom."

"I would have -"

"No, you wouldn't," Hermione said quietly. "And it's okay that you wouldn't have. Harry's aunt and uncle were moved, and that was okay, because it was Harry, and Ron's parents were protected anyway but my parents I tried to distance them from the world. And people just seemed to forget that I had parents," she laughed ironically. "Silly, but true."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. It worked out, they're safe and sound and I have you and Harry and Ginny, and the kids have you and Molly. It's fine."

"Thank you for distracting me from my thoughts," Minerva said genuinely. "I won't ask how you got around the magical age laws."

"Good," Hermione smiled. "It's best if you don't. One day you should tell me about you. You will receive no ill will from me, no matter what you did. I was not there and I cannot and will not pass judgement on a situation that I was not a part of. When you feel able to, I will be here."

"Hermione," Minerva sighed.

"I'm serious. I think it will help, telling someone so that you're not carrying it around all the time."

"Nobody should have to carry that burden," Minerva whispered.

They moved back to the sofa and sank back into it. She would need to leave soon to get to the Potters, but she was so very comfortable sitting beside Minerva like this. Really, Hermione was torn; she really didn't want to leave Minerva tonight but she had promised Albus that she'd see him on his birthday and she made it a point to make sure that all the promises she made to the kids, she kept.

"I do have to go though," Hermione said quietly.

"Of course you do," Minerva smiled. "Here." Minerva waved her wand and a small wrapped package flew into her hand from outside the living room. "Take this to young Albus, will you?"

"Of course," Hermione said happily. "You'll be okay?"

"Of course I will," Minerva blustered, calming slightly as Hermione continued to look at her. Minerva reached out her hand and patted Hermione's. "I will be, I promise."

Hermione nodded and took her leave, hugging Minerva solidly and kissing her cheek. She didn't want to leave, but she knew she had to. She made a decision that perhaps visiting once a week was not enough.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey you," Harry said, waving as he came out of the Ministry building.

"Hi," Hermione greeted him with a hug. It was long enough ago since leaving school that the Daily Prophet had stopped following them around constantly. They no longer had to worry about what kind of story would appear on the front pages following their working (or sometimes not) lunches.

"How's life?" Harry asked. "You seemed out of sorts at Alby's birthday party."

Hermione ordered her lunch and waited for the waitress to leave before she started talking. "That was a difficult night."

"Wednesday? Your normal Wednesday?"

Hermione nodded. They never mentioned _her_ name in public so as not to draw attention to her. None of them wanted the Wizarding World to start hounding Minerva McGonagall again.

"What happened?" Harry asked, absently accepting his bacon sandwich.

"Just the same things as always. She thinks she's old, she's sad," she paused to take a bite of her salad while she worked on deciding whether she wanted to tell Harry everything that had happened that afternoon. Swallowing, she decided just to tell him. "She was talking about memories, bad ones. About the first war."

"The Order lost a lot of good people in that war," Harry said sadly.

"No," Hermione said, squeezing Harry's hand. "The war before that one. Grindelwald's war."

A look of recognition crossed Harry's face. Though fixed now, topics such as modern history had not really been covered in History of Magic as Professor Binns had been dead for most of it. Hermione had brought this up with Minerva not long after they all left, and the new Headmistress had been horrified that they had not been taught according to the syllabus. Professor Binns had been replaced the following year with a much younger, keener Professor.

"I, um," Harry took a sip of tea. "I actually have those files in my office," Harry said, looking like he'd been caught with his hand in the ginger newt jar. "I've not looked at them yet, but I found them the other day in the filing cupboard and thought I'd read up on them. They say it was the most collaborated war in Wizarding history. Even more so than the Civil War in America."

"Look at you reading books," Hermione grinned, accepting the balled up napkin he threw at her for her troubles. "I'm not sure what it is specifically she is struggling with, or whether it will even be in those files, but," Hermione sighed. "It's worth a shot. She was barely even of age when they went to war." Hermione chewed thoughtfully. "In fact, she wouldn't have been until the end of the war, or just a bit beforehand. I can't imagine what she did though. It's really thrown her. She looked sick trying not to tell me about it. Like she'd done something terrible."

"You don't think she hurt them, do you?" Harry said quietly.

"Who?" Hermione asked, looking up. "The Jews?"

Harry scoffed. "No, the bad guys."

It dawned on Hermione that it was probably exactly what Minerva had done - whether by her own volition or not. They both stopped eating and stared at each other.

"She wouldn't," Harry said shakily.

"The woman we know now maybe wouldn't have," Hermione whispered. "But we didn't know her back then. Dumbledore was different, we know that. It stands that she would have been too."

"We need to see those files," Harry said, throwing a handful of galleons onto the table. "Come on."

Instead of Hermione returning home, she crossed the road with Harry and walked into the Ministry. It had been a while since she'd been through the employee's entrance. After breaking up with Ron, Hermione had quit her job at the Ministry as well, choosing to do something for herself, rather than anyone else. She had decided on a career in research and development through various different charms and potions. The new Headmaster had offered her any teaching position she wanted, but after a discussion with Rose and Hugo had turned him down. She remembered all too well the things that she and the boys had got up to at school, and Minerva had often been the one to discover them and dole out their punishment. She could only imagine how terrible it would have been to have your own mother do the same.

Not that she didn't enjoy her work. She'd done some great things for magic in general, selling some patented spells for a tidy sum and even giving away the more important ones. Minerva had been so proud of her the day she'd figured out how to isolate and remove cancerous cells with a specific targeting charm. She'd published it in every magazine and wizarding publication that would have her.

People still stopped her in the street to thank her. And recently, she'd heard that one company had worked out how to harness the power and build it into a muggle device. It was due out next year and was set to turn the world on its head.

"Hermione!"

"Kingsley!" Hermione grinned, accepting a hug from the big man. He was in the middle of his third and final term as Minister of Magic. The law had been put into place by he himself that restricted all Ministers to serve a maximum of three terms so that nobody could get too comfortable. As in the muggle world, elections were held every five years and Kingsley was already looking forward to his next move.

"What are you up to today?" He grinned that toothy smile. "We have more than one position open for you, should you wish to return?"

Hermione didn't know why she felt the need to lie, but she laughed and mentioned something about cousins leaving their things at each other's houses and the need to retrieve them. It worked, as it should have, and Hermione and Harry went on to Harry's office. Harry didn't comment on the lie that she had told, but he did lock the door behind them when they finally made it. So many people had wanted to say hello to Hermione that it took twice as long to get there.

"So, our hopes of being undetected were dashed on your good looks."

Hermione chuckled and settled herself on the sofa. Harry rummaged behind his desk for a while and returned to her side carrying two boxes and levitating three more.

"I can help you for a while, but I have a three o'clock meeting I can't miss. You can stay if you'd like though."

"Great. But I will have to leave about then as well. I have decided to get Minerva a mobile phone so I thought I'd pick one up and take her dinner too."

"On a Monday?!" Harry laughed as she elbowed him. "You'll have to give her my number," Harry said seriously. "Any time the kids are misbehaving, I'll just Facetime her. It'll sort everything out immediately."

Hermione giggled as she started pulling files from their boxes. Harry let her as he answered a few internal memos. Organising things was what Hermione did best, and after half an hour, there were three stacks of folders.

"People we know," Hermione pointed at one stack. "People we don't, and significant battles, skirmishes and engagements with the enemy."

"You're amazing you know," Harry grinned, picking up a handful of files and sitting back on the sofa, his legs crossed and started reading from the pile of people they knew.

"We need to weed out the ones from after she joined," Hermione mused, tying up her hair. "It would have to be about two years or so before the end. She wasn't that old. 1943 at the very earliest."

Harry nodded and flicked through a few of the files. They fell into an easy silence as they read and sorted. There were eyewitness reports and photographs - some of which were horrific, some even censored from view without the right clearance. They didn't have a high enough level, so they put these files aside for a while as they continued sorting. After about an hour, Harry dropped a file on the pile to go through thoroughly and sat back with a sigh.

Hermione didn't have to ask why. The reports were harrowing from what she had glanced over. What little they could read was stark and brutally honest. Harry's eyes were wide and the haunted look that she'd not seen in many years was back.

"It was horrific," he whispered. "Worse than ours, much worse," he said shakily as if he couldn't believe it. Hermione sadly could believe it, remembering the stories her grandfather told about his time in a POW camp. Hermione knew that Harry's ideas of war had been based on his own experience, but in all honesty, he'd missed the parts of day to day life during their personal battle with Voldemort that had made it a truly terrible experience for the rest of wizarding kind.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had been fighting guerrilla style for a long time, and sometimes had been stuck in the same place for weeks, completely cut off from the rest of the world. They hadn't experienced the fear on the streets, the terror that ran through you during the most mundane of times when you heard a weird noise, or someone startled you. They had experienced terror, to be sure; she rubbed her arm in memory. But she knew this was different somehow.

"They were tortured," Harry said, flipping open the front page. Gaunt looking faces stared back at them and Hermione realised what he was talking about. The striped pyjamas hung off the bones of the man staring back, his skin seemed to be the only thing holding his body together. It was a muggle photo, thankfully. Hermione wasn't sure she could have handled any moving portraits of ethnic cleansings.

"How much do you know about it?" Hermione asked. "About the Muggle war, World War II?"

"Not a lot," Harry admitted. "I think had I done school in the muggle world, it would have been different." He looked at the files before him. "I knew they'd done this," he muttered. "But it's different seeing it, you know?"

Hermione did know. She'd read enough that she'd have trouble talking to Minerva tonight without Minerva realising something was up, so she decided that with half an hour til Harry's meeting to call it a day.

"Let's come back to it. It'll take a while and you need to go to your meeting and I need to go and get this phone."

"I really hope she isn't mixed up in this," Harry said out loud the very thing Hermione was struggling with.

"I don't think so," she shook her head. "I'm sure she wasn't working with the Nazis," Hermione said, looking back at the photo and closing the file. "But I am terrified that once they found out what the Nazis had done that they took retribution somehow," she sighed. "And whether it was justified."

"You know, don't you?" Harry said, perking up.

"No," Hermione admitted. "But I think I'm beginning to work out what it is she's hiding. I think she, or a group of them, punished some of the Nazis. I think they found the Concentration Camps and they tortured the guards. I just don't know whether it was the right thing to do," she sighed again, tugging at the roots of her hair. "Or whether we can judge at all."

"They're monsters!" Harry protested.

"Would you have tortured Malfoy?" she whispered. "Would you have tortured Sirius before you knew what had happened?"

"I thought about it," Harry admitted bitterly. "I really did. And I hadn't seen," he waved at the folders, "what they saw. I was only angry for myself."

"Then I don't know," Hermione shrugged, frustrated at her lack of understanding. "Maybe I would have as well."

"You're too noble," Harry grinned.

And just like that, the atmosphere was broken. He pulled her up and into his arms and they hugged for a moment.

"Ginny is incredibly lucky," Hermione said, pulling away. "I was worried about you for a while there, but you turned out alright Harry Potter."

"I have you to thank mostly," he smiled. "Let me know how you get on. And I meant it, about giving Minerva my number. Just in case."

Hermione nodded and took her leave, waving from the door as she left. It had been an illuminating afternoon, and she was more sure than ever that what she thought Minerva may have done... she had done.


	3. Chapter 3

It was near dark by the time she arrived at Minerva's. The days were getting shorter and she knew that the cottage Minerva had bought wasn't the warmest, nor the most air-tight. Not that Minerva would let someone come and seal it for her. If she wasn't feeling so sorry for herself, Hermione was sure Minerva could have done it personally, but as Minerva's self-belief waned, so too did her magical control. It worried Hermione no end.

"I'm here," Hermione called from the door that opened upon her touching the door handle.

"Kitchen," Minerva replied. "How are you?"

"Good," Hermione said, hearing the hollowness in her voice even as she tried to hide it.

"Not Ronald again?" Minerva asked, her back still turned as Hermione entered the kitchen. "What has he done this time?"

"No, surprisingly not Ron. Just a long day."

Minerva hummed in response but said nothing further, meaning that Hermione would surely be grilled about it later when Minerva had lulled her into comfort. Hermione knew that she would have to tell Minerva the truth, simply because Minerva would ask her to. She wondered how much Occlumency Minerva practised, and whether her weird magic malady was weakening the blocks she had no doubt put upon her memories - causing them to falter, hence the flashbacks.

It was worth pondering as long as Minerva didn't hex her for interfering.

They settled into their normal rhythm, arguing good naturedly about Turner's new paper on Transfiguration. Hermione loved these moments where Minerva relaxed and forgot about her worries. It was intense sometimes, trying to come up with legitimate arguments when Minerva had a good lead up. Hermione often found herself scrambling for answers when Minerva merely stood by, grinning slyly.

"When you have argued with as many people as I, you will realise there are only three different arguments: you are right, you are wrong or they are wrong."

Hermione laughed heartily, having to put the bottle of wine down before she dropped it.

"Albus was infuriating. He would often argue me into a corner until I had no other option than to hex him."

"You don't speak about him often," Hermione said as she calmed down. "You must miss him."

"Every day. He was infuriating yes, but long sighted and brilliant and I miss him every day," she sighed. "He was my best friend."

"You weren't -"

Hermione bit her lip but didn't finish her sentence. Their relationship was confined to Transfiguration discussions and Hermione's children, sometimes Harry's too, but it rarely strayed into Minerva's life.

"You can ask me things you know," Minerva said quietly as she served their dinner. "It is only fair that my life," she paused, "some of it at least, be out in the open. You have shared so much of your own life, and yourself with me," Minerva laid a hand on Hermione's arm. "It is okay to ask the same of me."

Hermione looked at Minerva carefully, seeing the genuineness on her face. It made what she had to tell Minerva even harder.

"I shall take that into consideration, but not until after dinner. I'm starved and this smells amazing." Minerva gave her a funny look but dropped it so that they could enjoy their meal.

It was delicious and Hermione enjoyed being in Minerva's presence. There was a moment when Hermione wished that she could have this forever, before filing that away to discuss on another day. There was far too much on Hermione's mind to ponder even more unanswerable questions.

"Let us retire to the living room and you can finally tell me what has been plaguing you all evening."

Hermione piled the plates in the sink and started running the water.

"Don't you dare, get in here and tell me what is going on."

Hermione sighed and dropped her head. A part of her wanted to make up a plausible story to tell Minerva, but it was doubtful she'd be able to stick to it by the time Minerva had finished looking at her.

"Hermione -"

"I'm coming," she sighed. "Please forgive me."

"This story must really be something," Minerva said absently, "if it has you twisted up so tightly in knots."

"It is," Hermione said, sitting beside her. "I almost want to apologise before I begin, but I won't. I will simply start and if you wish me to leave at the end I will. But I never meant for it to hurt you. I only wished to understand you more, will you try to remember that please?"

Minerva didn't reply but there was a look on her face that Hermione could not discern. She took a deep breath, looking at her hands while she launched into the story of her day. The longer she talked, the more concerned she became for Minerva, who did not move or speak during the retelling. When Hermione finished, she finally looked up at Minerva, blushing in embarrassment.

"I realise that I should have waited for you to tell me, whether that was in a week or ten years. But I also, truly, wanted to find out a little more about what had happened. Muggles learn about the war in school, but of course, we didn't learn it in History of Magic, so Harry and I couldn't help ourselves. It was only as I was reading through the files that I figured out what might have happened," she paused as Minerva paled. "I could be wrong," she said, though she knew it sounded ridiculous even to her own ears. "Although I'm sure I'm not. But I stand by what I said: I don't, nor would ever judge you. We all have done terrible things in the face of war, and that war was -"

"You would not understand, even if I told you," Minerva whispered hoarsely. "There were sights that I cannot even begin to describe, and any words that I utter would not convey the desperate air of hopelessness about the whole thing."

Minerva stood, her cane forgotten again, and Hermione made a mental note to test a theory she had later on. She watched as the older woman moved to the window and looked out over the moorlands behind Minerva's house.

"We captured a number of the guards; men responsible for what we had discovered. From the lowest man to a few higher-ups. The majority muggle, but a few wizards among them. We -"

The soul that was usually so present in Minerva's eyes drifted off somewhere else, and Minerva's hands started to shake. Hermione shifted closer and wrapped her arms around Minerva until she started talking again.

"Sorry," Minerva said after a time.

"Don't be. If that is all you can tell me today, then that is okay."

"No," Minerva said vehemently. "I will tell you. I just don't know how long it will take."

"I have as long as you need," Hermione whispered.

Minerva smiled weakly, but Hermione saw the gratitude in it. They sat for a while before Minerva continued.

"They were pathetic, begging for their lives. My Commander gave them all Veritaserum," Minerva grimaced. It was in short supply, but you'll be surprised how little you need to use when you couple it with pain." Minerva took a breath. "We interrogated them for four days. Three out of twelve died in the process. We," her voice wobbled. "We bound the bodies together with a living man, using the fear to our advantage. We didn't falter. Not once did we stop and think about what we were doing. Nobody paused for a moment and asked if this was the right thing to do. Our Commander had never lead us wrong. We had come through everything before with barely a scratch. So," she shook her head. "We followed where we should have questioned."

Hermione tried to take everything in, but her brain was reeling. It was a confronting thought that Minerva could have done all that she said, and Hermione struggled to keep in mind that she hadn't been there, and had no right to judge.

"I was the youngest in our company and therefore spared from doing the worst of it. I saw him transfigure people's organs, charm them to believe they were drowning. Seen people drown while standing beside me." Minerva shuddered again and Hermione struggled to remain neutral. On the one hand, Hermione understood - it was clear that Minerva was young and following orders, but Minerva's forthright nature seemed to contradict her behaviour. It was something that Hermione knew she may never understand, simply because she wasn't there. Hermione listened as Minerva continued to share all of the graphic details of their retribution. Hermione refused to think of it as torture though.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon when Minerva faded off, her voice rough after talking for so long. Hermione locked away all of her feelings and thoughts, sliding down on the sofa and opening her arms for Minerva. The older woman smiled gratefully and lay with Hermione, falling asleep as soon as she had settled in Hermione's embrace.

They slept.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't long before Minerva started to stir, waking Hermione. It was clear that Minerva's memories were raising nightmares and Hermione shook Minerva, trying to wake her. Minerva moved away, but before she could ask after her, Minerva had backed into the corner and was pointing her wand at Hermione. She moved very slowly to a standing position and held out her hands in surrender.

She glanced to the sideboard by the door. Her wand lay there, almost aching to come to her aid. If Minerva attacked her then she would be unable to defend herself without it, and there was very little chance of her reaching it while Minerva was in this state. For now, Hermione decided that talking Minerva down would be the way to go.

"Minerva? You're at home. You're safe and you are home Min. There is nothing that can hurt you here. Nothing. The war is over Min."

"I'm so sorry for what we did to you!" Minerva sobbed. "Do not hurt her, she is innocent. She is pure."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up her forehead. She had no idea that Minerva had those thoughts about her. Hermione's heart fluttered in a way she wasn't accustomed to, but the fear she felt looking down Minerva's wand was overwhelming.

"Min, it is me. I'm here with you. I'm Hermione," she swallowed. "Your Hermione."

"A trick," Minerva growled, straightening her stance. Hermione saw in an instant why the whole world feared Minerva McGonagall. "Hermione does not know she is mine."

"MINERVA!"

Hermione's shout stirred Minerva, but not in the way she was expecting. Had Hermione not known Minerva as well as she did, she'd have missed the small twitch of her face before she sent off a wordless spell; had she not known Minerva as well as she did, Hermione would have died in that moment. She dived for her wand, grabbing it with her fingertips as Minerva' spell grazed her shoulder.

She rolled, extending her own arm as she came to a stop on one knee. Her wand pointed at Minerva, she now felt equal, until she looked up at Minerva and saw her face a picture of horror.

"Merlin, what have I done?"

"Don't worry," Hermione said, getting to her feet. "Not the first time."

"Hermione," Minerva said, taking a step forward, but stopping. "I've hurt you."

Hermione looked down, testing her fingers and toes until the adrenaline wore off and her shoulder started to throb.

"Oh."

It wasn't quite as bad as when Ron splinched his shoulder, but she could see that it was quite bad. Hermione's skin and shirt seemed to have melded together, leaving a big open wound with shirt melted around the outsides.

"Merlin Hermione, sit down." Minerva went pale again, but snapped into action, sitting Hermione down and disappearing at a run - without cane, Hermione noticed - before returning with a first aid kit.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, on the verge of tears.

"Don't be," Hermione said, and meant it. "Like I said, it's not the first time, and I doubt it will be the last. It's definitely not the worst I've ever had either. You weren't awake Min, it's okay."

"It's not," Minerva said, scrabbling through the bottles of potions within the first aid kit.

"Min?" Hermione said, stopping Minerva by taking both of her hands in her own. "It's okay. You were asleep."

"I wish Poppy was here."

"I trust you."

Minerva took a deep breath and nodded. They sat in silence until Minerva had applied the dose of potion. They watched as it bubbled and hissed. Hermione grimaced as the pain started to throb without mercy.

"Hermione, it's," Minerva seemed lost for words. "Your shirt is stuck to the wound. I," she stammered. "You." Minerva struggled for control. "You need to remove your shirt."

Hermione laughed, dispelling some of the tension from the air.

"Minerva, you should have just said something if you wanted to see me naked. You didn't need to hex me!"

Minerva giggled, then laughed, falling beside Hermione on the sofa and joining in Hermione's laughter until they both had tears in their eyes.

"I find myself unable to prevent myself from spilling all of my secrets before you," Minerva said quietly as they fell into silence. "Like the fact that I think that you are an extraordinarily beautiful woman, and I cannot help but be drawn to you."

"You aren't just saying that because I'm about to take my top off?"

Minerva snorted and cupped Hermione's smiling face.

"You are as dear," she paused, "dearer to me than anyone has ever been."

"I find, if I am honest, that my sentiments match yours perfectly," Hermione smiled wickedly. "And I shall remove my shirt for you with no worries at all about impropriety."

The tension built, but it was a different sort of tension. Hermione's pain was almost dwarfed by the prickling skin and the excited butterflies in her stomach.

"This is silly," Minerva suddenly said. "Miss -"

"Don't you dare!" Hermione hissed. "You cannot do that if you wish to explore this. You cannot ever call me that. We're past that, way beyond it. I am your Hermione and you are my Minerva. The names we had before, are no more. Let's stick to what we know now."

"Right," Minerva said decisively. "In that case, if you would disrobe Hermione, I will treat your shoulder, and if you really do forgive me, join me in my bedroom," she paused with a mischievous smile on her face. "To sleep."

"I would love to," Hermione said, trying to keep a straight face. "You're going to have to help me though," she gestured to her shirt front. "I am going to struggle."

She wasn't even trying to tease Minerva. She was wearing a turtleneck, which were difficult to remove at the best of times, let alone with only one arm. Eventually, with much blushing and a few muttered curse words from Minerva, they managed to get the shirt off her middle and left arm.

"Min, just cut it. I'm not at all attached to it, and honestly, it hurts to wear it like this. I know you're not supposed to pull it off a burn, but it's pulling anyway. So just cut the sleeve and we'll go from there."

Minerva disappeared and came back with a pair of scissors, apparently not daring to use a severing charm. She cut gently around the wound. It looked as bad as it felt but Hermione needed Minerva to do her best, so she tried to hide how she really felt. After they had removed the top, Hermione was left with a starburst of shirt and a deep burn in her arm.

"Do you have any Essence of Dittany?" Hermione asked, peering into Minerva's box.

"No," Minerva said exasperatedly. "I meant to restock the box, but -"

"But you've not been feeling yourself lately," Hermione supplied gently. "It's okay. There's some in my bag. In the hall."

They spent the next hour applying the Dittany and gently peeling away the shirt as the drops healed the skin beneath it. Eventually, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the pain ebbed away and they pulled off the last of the shirt. They both fell back against the sofa in relief, staring at each other in silence.

"If I don't go to bed soon, I'll be sleeping here on the spot," Hermione said apologetically.

"Of course," Minerva smiled. "Come on."

Minerva took Hermione's hand to pull her up off the sofa, but didn't drop it as she led the way down the hallway to the only bedroom.

"Do you want something to sleep in?" Minerva asked. "I can transfigure something to your liking."

"If you don't mind, I really don't," Hermione said, slipping off her jeans.

"You're as likely to give me a heart attack," Minerva muttered, glancing over Hermione's mostly unclad body. "You're beautiful."

"You are," Hermione returned, clambering under the covers without ceremony. "Do you mind if I sleep this side? I can see this is usually yours but," she waved absently to the still damaged shoulder.

"Of course not," Minerva said gently. "I'll be there momentarily."

Hermione didn't know whether Minerva was there minutes later, or three hours. She fell asleep without ceremony, dreaming of Scottish accents and piercing green eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

"Mum?"

"In here darling," Hermione called, pulling off her glasses in preparation for the Hugo bear hug.

"Hey," Rose said from the doorway as a newly foot-taller Hugo rushed Hermione.

"Gracious, I think you've grown since Albus' party even!" Hermione exclaimed. "Hello Rosie darling, everything okay?"

"'Course," Rose shrugged, without elaborating.

Hermione took it to mean that all was not okay, and she carted Hugo off to unpack his trunk while she went to talk to Rose.

"What's going on then?" Hermione asked from Rose's doorway. "Everything alright?" Hermione kept her voice light. "Did your father write?"

"You know he didn't," Rose said exasperatedly. Hermione smiled, seeing so much of herself in her daughter.

"So what is bugging you?"

"Nothing," Rose grumbled.

"Try again," Hermione smiled, patting the bed beside her as she sat down.

"It's not any of my business."

"Then why worry?"

"Because it's yours," Rose whispered.

Hermione stilled and look at her daughter. She wracked her brain for something she had done, or said, that would be troubling Rose, but couldn't think of a single thing.

"Mine?" Hermione asked.

"James said something."

Hermione groaned, thinking of all the things she had told Harry over the last few weeks and wondered how James would have heard any of it.

"Okay," Hermione said, sitting sideways and preparing herself. "Hit me with it."

"Are you sleeping with Minerva?"

Whatever Hermione thought Rose was going to say it wasn't that. The breath caught in her throat and she choked, on nothing, for more than a minute.

"What?" she said, her voice going up two octaves. "Is that what he said?"

"It's what he said Uncle Harry said."

"Oh for -" Hermione made a point to not swear in front of the children, so instead she closed her eyes and mentally wondered how many ways she could kill Harry and not have anyone find the body.

"Are you?" Rose asked haltingly.

Hermione pushed aside all the embarrassment and emotion of finding out Harry and Ginny were obviously discussing her personal affairs behind her back and looked at her oldest child. There was no judgement in Rose's eyes, only hurt, and Hermione hoped that was simply because of the way she'd found out, rather than the idea of them being together.

"I," she sighed, trying to find the words. "Not right now," she shrugged. "I _had_ ," she emphasised the word, "planned on discussing it with the two of you once you got home, but it seems as though James has beaten me to it."

"Are you going to get angry at Uncle Harry?"

"A little," Hermione smiled, brushing Rose's fringe back. "I'll probably tell him to watch where he talks about me behind my back."

"Are you mad?"

"No," Hermione said honestly. "I just wish you'd heard it from me first."

"So," Rose played with the sleeve of her jumper. "You are dating though?"

"We're," Hermione tasted the word dating in her mouth, and screwed up her nose at the thought. "We're enjoying each other's company?" she tried, knowing her astute daughter would no doubt eventually get to the truth.

"Urgh," Rose rolled her eyes and slumped back on the bed. "Ok Mum, let's take it slowly. Do you like her?"

"I do," she nodded emphatically, then changed her mind. "Is that okay?"

"Duh," Rose said, rolling her eyes again. Hermione decided she'd been spending way too much time with Scorpius Malfoy and that the boy had obviously taken after his father quite a lot if the eye roll was anything to go by. "Okay, so you like Minerva, and Minerva likes you - of course she does, otherwise it wouldn't have gone this far."

"Alright."

"You already have dinner together, so that's not really a key factor in the argument, but maybe," Rose chewed on her lip. "Has dinner together changed? Does it feel different? Are you going to Minerva's for dinner more often?"

"Yes," Hermione again replied haltingly, looking at her daughter in amazement.

"Okay, do you go anywhere together?" Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but closed it again as Rose interjected."Oh, but Min doesn't go out, so we can't use that."

"We do go out actually. Not very often, but we went to see a play the other day."

"What?"

Hermione had to bite back a laugh as Rose's mouth dropped open at the admission.

"Are you serious? Minerva goes outside the house with you?"

"Yes?" she replied uncertainly.

"Wow," Rose said, her eyes wide. "Mum, do you realise that she must really, really love you?"

"I," Hermione paused, thinking about what Rose had said. She thought of what Minerva was like even a month ago, compared to what she was like now. She thought about the gentle nature that seemed to perpetrate everything they did. The quiet comments and the hour long phone calls they made to each other. "Oh."

Rose grinned at her, like she had just revealed the keys to the universe.

"You totally didn't realise, did you?"

"I had no idea!"

"Sweet," Rose laughed. "So, can we go out for dinner with her? All of us?"

"I," Hermione couldn't speak. The thought of Minerva not just merely entertaining the idea, but actually and definitely loving her was something else entirely to what she had been thinking. The more she thought about it, the more stupid she felt and she could have kicked herself at being so dense.

She pulled out her phone and pushed the third speed dial (Rose and Hugo always came first).

"How could you miss me already," came the reply as the phones connected. The new information that Hermione had just received almost made Minerva's reply sound sultry in nature and she paused for a moment before returning a greeting. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, sorry, hello," Hermione said, though she was sure it sounded forced.

"You aren't alright, what's wrong?"

"I," Hermione looked at Rose, who had busied herself with something in front of her wardrobe door mirror. "I have just been taught something valuable by Rose, and wondered if you would like to go out for dinner tonight with us all?"

"Together?" Minerva asked carefully.

"Yes," Hermione whispered. "I haven't told Hugo yet, but Rose," Hermione sighed and left the room. "Evidently Harry has guessed and was talking about it in front of James and naturally he told Rose."

"Oh," Minerva said, though Hermione wasn't sure what she meant by that.

"Is that bad?"

"I," Minerva paused this time, and Hermione was struck with how different this conversation was to the others they had had. "I was under the impression that you did not want people to know."

"What?"

"I, did you not?"

"I thought you didn't. You're so private, I just-"

"Oh Hermione, we are dolts!"

Hermione laughed at their stupidity.

"For two incredibly intelligent witches, we certainly haven't excelled in this particular area of brilliance."

They went quiet for a moment before Hermione struck up her courage again.

"Will you join my," Hermione swallowed, "your family, for dinner?"

"Hermione," Minerva said, and Hermione could feel the sadness through the line. "They are Ron's children too."

"They are also mine, and as you are an extension of me, a brilliant additional part, they are yours as well."

"Hermione -"

"I'm serious, Minerva. _I want this._ I have realised that I want this so much more than I have ever wanted anything, in the last few moments. This, for me, is it. If you don't want me, it's okay, but I won't be falling for anyone else." She went quiet and started up again in a whisper. "There is no one else that could compare to you."

"I love you, Hermione Granger," Minerva said solidly, without waver.

"I love _you_ ," Hermione said back, smiling as wide as her face would allow.

"I would love to join you for dinner," Minerva said. "I would encourage you to tell Hugo before though; I don't want him to find out when I take you in my arms and kiss you senseless."

"You are a card, Minerva," Hermione laughed, feeling her face grow hot.

"Usual place?" Minerva suggested. "I'm quite sure the menu will suit them both as much as it does us."

"Yes, I think so. Six o'clock?"

"Yes. I will see you then," Minerva said, her voice back to that sultry rumble. "I love you."

"As I love you," Hermione replied, ringing off.

"So... that was cute," Rose grinned from the kitchen bench where she was eating a bowl of cereal. She obviously had snuck past Hermione while she was still on the phone.

"Must you involve yourself in ALL my affairs?" Hermione said, only half teasing.

"Honestly?" Rose said. "No, but this one I think concerns us, so I'm just making sure you get it right." Rose looked down at her bowl. "I want this as much as you guys do."

"Rosie -"

Hermione pulled her daughter into a hug that made Rose sigh happily. Rose was most like herself and had taken to Minerva just as much as Hermione had. Hugo had been slower, but he had been much younger when Hermione and Ron had gone their separate ways. Rose had been much more amenable to the change as she and Ron had never really understood each other - in much the same way Ron had never really understood Hermione.

"Let me go and find your brother, we're leaving a little before six, okay?"

"Yep," Rose said, scoffing down the rest of her snack and heading back to her room. "I'll be ready."

Hermione watched her go with a smile, before turning to the other side of the room to go and find Hugo.


	6. Chapter 6

"Sweetheart?"

"In here Mum!" Hugo called. She opened Hugo's bedroom door to find him tacking up a new Chudley Cannons poster on his already mismatched orange wall.

"Oh, that's nice," she said, trying not to grimace at the way it clashed with his hair. "Did your Dad get it for you?"

"No, I traded it with Mitch."

"For what?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice light. What was Hugo's was Hugo's, but she was aware that he was more trusting than most and had no doubt that at some point he would have to learn the very real danger of people walking all over him.

"My book on football."

"Hugo," Hermione sighed. It had been a gift from Grandpa Arthur. Admittedly, Hugo was not into football, though Rose was, and it wasn't a huge loss, but it was also a present. "You are not to trade again," she looked at him sternly. "Nothing, not without first checking with Rose, okay?"

"Why?" He looked genuinely shocked.

"Because the poster and the book are not equal in value."

"They are to me."

Hermione sat down with a sigh. He had her there, and she had to remember that as much as he was Ron's miniature, he was her child as well.

"Right," she said, waving her hand to clear the air somehow. "I have something to tell you, and I want you to help me. Would you prefer me to go slowly, or just tell you straight away?"

He sat for a moment and thought about it. This was the one thing Hermione had learned rather quickly that Ron still had trouble with when communicating with Hugo. He had a quick, sharp brain that he used in a way that sometimes didn't make sense to many people, but Ron only saw that Hugo was him in a smaller form and treated him accordingly. It often caused problems beyond what she could sort out.

"Just tell me," he nodded, sitting in front of her attentively.

"Okay," Hermione took a breath, then chickened out. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," he said, as if she was stupid for asking.

"Right. Okay, well. Minerva and I, we're," she paused, thinking about what Rose had said. "We're, dating I guess you'd call it. I wanted to know what you think about it."

"Oh," Hugo said, his eyes filling with sadness immediately, breaking Hermione's heart. "Oh."

"What do you mean 'oh'?" Hermione asked gently. She wanted to reach forward and pull him onto her knee, but he had emphatically told her that he was too old for that now.

"I," his lip quivered. "I thought you were just taking a break from Dad."

"Oh," Hermione said, her own sadness filling every nook and cranny of her body. "Oh darling, no."

Recent events suddenly made so much sense, hearing that. Every issue they'd had with Hugo since their split now had a good reason behind it.

"Darling, is that what you had thought all this time?"

"Kinda," he looked extremely uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry that I never made sure you understood what was happening. Your father and I will never be together. Not ever."

"Because you like Min?"

"No, because your father and I do not love each other," she chuckled. "Sometimes we don't even like each other. But that doesn't mean that we don't love you any less. We will always be tied together in a way, because we both made you and we both love you. That's something that will always be a part of our lives."

"But you do like Min?"

"I do," Hermione said gently. "I love her, in fact."

"And not Dad?"

"No."

"But you like Min in a way that's more than you like Uncle Harry?"

Hermione smiled and cupped his chin.

"I love Minerva and would like her to be a part of our family. I would like to hear what you think of that?"

"I guess it's good. Is she going to move in?"

"I don't know, darling," Hermione laughed. "Possibly down the track, but not today."

"I guess it's okay."

"Perhaps it's something you'd like to think about?" He nodded. "Would it be okay if we met her for dinner tonight? We're going to a pub I know, and they have a great menu."

"Yeah," Hugo said, brightening up. "Do they serve chips?"

"Absolutely," Hermione laughed.

"Then yeah! When are we going?"

"About six o'clock."

"Great. Is it okay if I play XBox until then?"

"Definitely."

Hugo ran off to the living room to busy himself with his Muggle games console, leaving Hermione in his bedroom, wondering perplexedly at what she'd found out.

"I love you Mum," he said, racing back and throwing his arms around her.

"I love you too, my darling boy," Hermione said, kissing his hair.

As quickly as he had raced in, he had gone again.

-0-

"MIN!"

Hugo raced through the pub carpark, narrowly avoiding a moving car to fly into Minerva's arms.

"Gracious child, please be careful in the car parks!" Minerva admonished him lightly as she hugged him tightly. "You've grown about fifteen feet since I last saw you!"

"That's impossible," Hugo laughed, moving away so Rose could have her own hug.

"Hello Rosie," Minerva said quietly. If Hermione hadn't already known she loved Minerva, she'd have fallen for her all over again seeing her keeping track of both children and conversing with each of them, sometimes at the same time.

"Hi," Hermione said, blushing as Minerva paused, looking her in the eye.

"Good evening," Minerva purred.

"Will you just kiss or whatever already," Rose said, her hand on her hip.

"Rose!" Hermione cried, swatting her arm.

"You heard the girl, Hermione," Minerva grinned.

Hermione was still rolling her eyes when Minerva's lips landed on hers, and beyond that she didn't even know what day of the week it was. She had never felt a kiss like it. Never. Minerva's lips were impeccably soft, and perfectly matched to her own. She wrapped her arms around Minerva's neck when it felt right and kissed her back with all of her heart.

"Alright guys, can we eat now?"

Hermione blinked, looking around and realising she was making out like a teenager in front of her children. She was so flustered, she couldn't even answer, so Minerva wrapped her arm around Hermione's middle and waved them forward.

"Onward, hungry hordes."

Dinner was splendid, although Hermione spent a lot of it simply watching Minerva talking to her children. She realised beyond what she had before, that she not only wanted this more than anything else she'd ever wanted, she wanted Minerva forever.

"Will you move in with us?" she heard herself ask.

"Did you mean to say that?" MInerva said with a grin, no doubt seeing the surprise on Hermione's face.

"Honestly, no, but it stands. You can, could, if you wanted to?"

"You can play Quidditch with me!" Hugo cried, happily munching on his third helping of dessert.

"What do you think Rosie?" Minerva asked gently.

"I think it's going to be weird, seeing you guys kissing and hugging and whatever. Mum," she looked apologetically at Hermione, "Mum and Dad never really did that." Hermione opened her mouth to counter, but Minerva squeezed her knee, keeping her quiet. "But that's not a bad thing I think," she smiled at Minerva. "I think maybe she just found her soul mate."

"What's a soulmate, Rosie?" Hugo asked.

"Someone you're meant to be with forever, with all of your soul."

"Cool," Hugo said, apparently happy with that explanation.

Hermione and Minerva glanced at each other, but the love shining from their eyes stilled the moment. The feeling that Minerva was Hermione's soulmate was a perfect explanation.

"That settles it then," Minerva shrugged.

"Yes it does," Hermione grinned.


	7. Chapter 7

"Rose, if you don't hurry we'll be late darling," Minerva called from the kitchen where she was doling out breakfast.

"I'm coming," Rose said indignantly. "Gosh!"

"I just want to make sure you're fuelled and ready for the day," Minerva said with a hint of defensiveness.

"I know, I'm just teasing," Rose said. "Sorry Min."

"Quite alright, now eat." She motioned towards Rose's favourite breakfast. "Are you packed?"

"Yeah," Rose mumbled, around a mouthful.

Minerva raised her wand and Rose's trunk came sailing from her room and to the front door.

"It's still cool," Rose said quietly.

"Why thank you."

The first time Minerva had done something around the house with magic, the children had been wide-eyed. Hermione realised that being raised as a Muggle had taught her to do things with her hands that other witches did with their wands. It still amazed Rose and Hugo when Minerva did the dishes with magic or folded laundry without having to stand and do it with her hands, even though they had seen Molly had done the same at the Burrow.

"Min!"

"Hugo?" Minerva said, spinning around.

"I can't find my sneakoscope!"

"I know you can't because do you remember where I told you that you should put it?"

"In my trunk?"

"And where did you put it, darling?"

"Not in my trunk."

Hermione snorted from the sofa where she was working on some last minute changes to a paper she had written over the weekend. She had already turned it in, but the publishers had queried some points, much to Hermione's distaste, although Minerva had agreed that it was better to address them than to argue.

"Does Mum have it?" he whined.

"No, she does not," Minerva said, and Hermione heard a little Professor McGonagall in her voice. "I have it, because it was in your pocket when you put your jeans in the wash."

"Oh," Hugo frowned. "Is it ruined?"

"No, I saved it. But there are two lessons here, aren't there?"

"Yeah," Hugo said with a sigh. "Do as you're told and check your pockets before putting your jeans in the wash."

"I love how intelligent you are my boy," Minerva smiled, producing the sneakoscope from mid-air into her hand.

"I love you, Min," Hugo said absently, hugging her middle and running back to his room. "I'll be two minutes."

Hermione turned to Minerva and smiled at the look on her face. Hugo had been the slowest to accept Minerva's presence in their lives, despite him loving Minerva in principal. Hermione wondered how much of that was what Ron had started saying now and then once he'd heard about their relationship. Rose had put him in his place, shocking them all, but what he had said had been hurtful to the both of them, and it had put their already rocky relationship under more strain. They rarely talked, except to exchange the children now and then.

"We do, you know," Rose said quietly, looking between them. "We love you, Min. I'm glad you moved in."

"I am too, Rosie," Minerva whispered, kissing the girl's forehead.

"Right," Minerva said, packaging up Hugo's breakfast, knowing he wouldn't have time to eat it. "Let's get your trunk in the car, then Hermione can turf your brother out post haste."

The ride home from the station was quiet, but it wasn't awkward. Hermione concentrated on steering the car, rather than Minerva's warm palm on her knee.

"I think that went rather well, didn't it," Hermione chuckled as they walked in the door.

Minerva shut and locked it behind her and turned to Hermione, whose back was against the wall before she could blink.

"I love you," Minerva said. "I cannot keep it in any longer."

"Excellent," Hermione smiled, wrapping a leg around Minerva's hip. "I love you too Min, truly. Now take me back to bed."

"It would be my utmost pleasure."


End file.
